


Do You Want More of This; Isn't It Glorious?

by Camellia Cook (thekurosakiconundrum)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clothed Sex, Edgelords In Love, Feelings, Frottage, Graduate School, Hand Jobs, Hands Down Pants, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Prompt Fill, Second Time, Semi-Public Sex, Smoking, Soft Kylux Kinks, Sweet but Filthy, Wintertime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:03:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekurosakiconundrum/pseuds/Camellia%20Cook
Summary: ForthisSoft Kylux Kinks prompt.Game design students Hux and Ben (colleagues and sort-of friends who are both totally over their one mutually drunken hookup) take a break from their project for a walk and a smoke on a cold winter night. They discuss  apocalypse survival strategies, and they don't discuss their feelings for each other--not in so many words, anyway. But when Ben makes a move, the two of them find that they communicate better in other ways.





	Do You Want More of This; Isn't It Glorious?

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt physically manifested in my house and forced me to write this in one marathon sitting. Hope this is what you were looking for, OP! Apparently this is my kink now, too--who knew? I'm gaining some self-knowledge in this fandom tonight!
> 
> No CW beyond the tags--except perhaps for my lack of understanding of how video games are made.
> 
> The title's from ["You Belong To Me"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IR1Psd1wz5w) by Cat Pierce, which, if you've never heard, you should listen to because it's an absolute soft kylux jam. (Link to Youtube.)

Hux rolled his chair back from the table, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand, then taking a moment to stretch out his wrists when the movement made his arm twinge. He needed a break. It had been—he glanced back up at the monitor, ignoring the neat lines of fight mechanics code that filled the screen in favor of looking at the clock—more than three and a half hours since he’d last gotten up from this desk, and that was entirely too long.

He stood, stretching his arms over his head and flexing his back, feeling the chill when the too-cool air of the computer lab hit hit the strip of belly his movement exposed. He bent the other way, folding himself down towards the floor, touching his toes as he bobbed in place a few times, groaning slightly under his breath as his tense muscles stretched.

When he straightened, he noticed the only other figure in the lab watching him. Hux felt himself begin to blush a little under that unnecessarily intense gaze, even though it was perfectly normal that his sudden motion in an otherwise motionless room would catch his eye. There wasn’t anything in particular behind it—Ben’s eyes were just like that, he knew. Whenever he looked at you, it was like he was staring directly into your soul. A lot of people found it unnerving, but Hux kind of liked it. He liked the way that whenever Ben looked at him, he didn’t seem to see anything else.

“I need to stretch my legs,” Hux explained. “I’m going to go for a smoke, walk around a bit.”

“Mind if I bum one?” Ben asked, and Hux rolled his eyes but nodded anyway, reaching for his coat. For a supposed non-smoker, Ben did this an awful lot.

Ben stood, hurriedly flipping his sketchbook closed before Hux could catch more than a glimpse of the picture he was working on. All he could see was an ominous figure in swirling black robes, and he’d seen that much before. Ben, typical artist that he was, was unwilling to let Hux see his design for the hero of their entry into this year’s iteration of the university’s annual game design competition before it was complete.

Hux locked the lab behind them as they walked out, and the two of them made their way through the building’s long, empty halls, tracing the familiar path from the grad lab to the exit. Hux braced himself for the January chill, slipping his gloves from his coat pocket and putting them on. Ben did the same, except that his coat was a weird asymmetrical black mass of wool and leather where Hux’s was a perfectly ordinary if exceptionally well-made dark gray peacoat.

It was in fact freezing when they walked outside; a cold, clear sort of night, the kind that made the stars look impossibly bright and sharp, that drove even the least sentimental of men to wonder what it might be like out there among them. Hux looked briefly up at the sky, his eye finding Orion in a kind of salute, as was his habit in wintertime. The hunter was high in sky, and the sight of the familiar stars filled Hux’s belly with a pleasant ache that might be wonder and might be melancholy.

He pulled out a cigarette for each of them but fumbled with his lighter—it had been stupid to put his gloves on before he’d lit his smoke. Ben reached out a hand and took his vintage Zippo from him, cupping his other hand against the light wind as he lit his cigarette for him, then handed it back without lighting his own. Instead, he leaned in with it caught between his teeth and pressed the tip to Hux’s, smiling slightly as he puffed on it to get it to catch.

Hux tried not to let the sudden warmth prickling over his skin at the sight of that absurdly sensual mouth so close to his own show on his face. He was intimately acquainted with those unfairly attractive lips, and memories of that one time always came to him at the most inopportune moments. Ben’s eyes flicked up to meet his as he pulled away, something warm and pleased in them like he knew exactly what he was doing.

The two of them set off towards the Arts and Sciences library, towards Ben’s favorite spot, a small, walled garden behind on the building's far side. They walked in silence for a while, and while Hux couldn’t guess what Ben was thinking of, his own mind was suddenly too aware of the man beside him, of the small distance between them, of the chance that their hands might brush by accident. The notion made his heart beat faster, silly as that was.

They saw no one as they crossed the quad, not a single individual. The campus around them was doubly deserted—it was nearing one in the morning on a Tuesday, and it was between terms, all the undergrads still home for the holidays. Also, it was too cold to be outside if you didn’t have to.

“So quiet tonight,” Ben said, mirroring his thoughts, his soft, deep voice breaking the late-night hush. “Whenever it’s like this, I always feel like the world ended while I wasn’t paying attention, like maybe I couldn’t hear the screams and explosions because of my headphones or something. I could be the only one left alive and I wouldn’t even know.”

Hux looked at him, his lips quirking into a half-smile. Ben was such a weirdo. He said, “Not the only one, not tonight. You and I--the last men on earth.”

“That’s not so bad," Ben said agreeably, and then added, apparently apropos of nothing, "You’d be on my team, you know.

“Your ‘team?’” Hux asked, confused.

“Yeah. My apocalypse team. Like if we had a nuclear war or a civil war or zombies started taking over or something and society collapsed. I think you’d be good in a world like that. You could survive, whatever it took.”

Hux was strangely touched. He always thought he’d do well in a world like that, too; that he could, somehow, rise above the chaos. That he’d become a leader of men and remake the world according to his own design, and by the time he was finished, it would be better than it had been before, or at least on its way to becoming so. He didn’t voice this, however, merely took a draw off his cigarette and asked, “What do you mean?”

Ben’s smile broadened slightly, his eyes knowing and amused. “You’d be ruthless, given a situation that called for it. I mean, no offense, Hux, but you’re kind of a dick. You wouldn’t hesitate to, like, I don’t know, take some food from someone even if it meant they’d starve. If you needed it, I mean. You’d probably kill them yourself, if you really had to.”

Hux considered being offended for half a second, but he just wasn’t. Instead, he felt seen. Ben’s eyes were luminous in the cold, clear starlight, and Hux loved the way they bored into him, seeing the dark parts of himself that no one else even guessed at.

“Wouldn’t you? If it meant your survival?” Hux asked, curious.

Ben made a considering noise. “I… don’t know. I’d like to think I’d be strong enough. But I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I could have the opportunity to find out.” He laughed a little and added, “That’s so wrong, isn’t it? But I still want to know.”

Hux smiled at him, unreasonably delighted by this whole conversation. He bumped Ben's shoulder with his, feeling the give as the gesture crushed the layers of thick fabric between them together. “I feel like I ought to disagree with you that that’s what strength is, but it’s too late at night to play devil’s advocate and argue for something I don’t actually believe.”

Ben smiled back, more broadly this time, the white glint of his crooked teeth turned eerie by the glare of the blue-green mercury light that stood beside their current patch of sidewalk. They fell silent as they continued walking, and it felt—to Hux, at least—like they understood each other perfectly.

Then, just a minute or two later, they were at the garden, swinging their legs over the entrance gate. It was locked for whatever reason, but they were both tall enough that that the low gate was no hindrance to them. Once they were inside, Hux took a seat on the stone bench. He regretted this immediately and jumped back up with an undignified squeak, rubbing at the backs of his thighs. Great, now his ass was frozen.

Ben huffed a little laugh and sat down himself. “Here. My coat’s longer; thicker, too. I won’t get cold. You can sit on my lap.”

“I’m not going to sit on your lap,” Hux protested. “That’s ridiculous. I can just stand.”

“Who cares if it’s ridiculous?” Ben countered. More softly, he continued, “We’re the only two people in the world. There’s no one left to laugh at us.”

Hux bit his lip, feeling suddenly strange, out of his depth. There weren’t any lights in the little garden, and he felt overwhelmed by curves and angles of Ben’s strange face, the way the starlight and shadow made him so terribly stark, like winter personified except for the soft, open expression on his face. His heart felt like it might burst with that same unnameable feeling, almost a kind of pain, that he felt when he looked up at the stars.

Ben grabbed his hand and tugged, and Hux, too busy feeling as though he were on the cusp of some great revelation to resist, tumbled into him. Ben’s solid body felt too good against his own for him to move away, so he just sighed and settled on top of him, sitting sideways across his thighs with one arm slung around his shoulders for balance.

He’d nearly let his cigarette go out, and he took a hard draw off it to keep it alight. The crackling sound of the tobacco and paper as it burned seemed very loud, and the brightening red glow of the cherry spilled over Ben’s face and reflected in his eyes, turning Hux’s insides strange all over again. Somehow, the red light seemed to suit him even better.

They smoked in silence for a little while, and Hux luxuriated in Ben’s warmth, in the way their chilled jeans were warming between them. He hated the winter, the way the cold seemed to seep into his bones and make him wonder if he’d ever be warm again. Right now, though, Ben’s legs were delightfully warm against his ass and thighs, reminding him again of their one encounter, upstairs at a wilder-than-average party, under the influence and never spoken of again.

He finished his cigarette first and tossed it away, intending to pick up the butt and throw it away before they left. The silence wasn't quite companionable as they both looked out into the darkness, but it wasn't quite awkward, either. The night was, perhaps, waiting. Hux recalled hearing somewhere that the dark was patient.

“Hey,” Ben whispered, interrupting his thoughts, drawing him back to the here and now. Hux turned to look at him, their faces very close together. “Can I kiss you?”

Hux swallowed hard, his whole body suddenly vibrating with feeling, some unholy alloy of that nameless ache and the beginnings of arousal.

“Yes,” he said, his reply coming out as a whisper despite the fact that he hadn’t intended it that way.

And so Ben kissed him, those full lips soft against his, more gently than Hux had known he was capable of—they hadn’t been especially kind to each other before, that time in some Physics PhD’s roommate’s bed. And while Hux would tell anyone who would listen that he didn’t care for this kind of thing, that preferred the honesty of roughness and animal need, in this one instance, he liked it. Maybe it was because this felt honest, too.

Ben’s lips were a little cold at first, but they warmed quickly from their breath and the friction of the cling and drag of their mouths together. When his tongue flicked out over Hux’s bottom lip, he gasped at the heat of it, eager for more. He wanted all of Ben’s warmth he could get, not least because it seemed to be shared so freely. It was so good, so hot inside Ben’s mouth—it made him hot too, the warmth of it spreading outward, radiating through his entire body.

Hux couldn’t get enough of him, of his plush lips and his clever tongue, of the way he tasted like Hux’s cigarettes and green apple flavored kombucha. There was something about the way Ben kissed that he hadn’t noticed before, a kind of slow deliberateness, as if he was determined to savor this as much as he could, to memorize and understand it. It was like the way Ben looked at him, too thorough to be normal, intense enough that it might be a little creepy if you didn’t like feeling as though you were the only other person in the world.

The angle wasn’t entirely comfortable, and it didn’t allow for nearly as much contact as he wanted, so he shifted to straddle Ben’s lap, wincing briefly at the chill of the bench against his shins. It was still a little awkward, with their coats bunching between them, but it was also so good it was almost painful, somehow made sweeter, realer, by the imperfect way they fit together. He’d thought about kissing Ben again, touching him again, so many times, but it had somehow never occurred it would be like this, that it would make him feel raw and too-sensitive in the cold night air. Ben kissed with his whole body, arching against him, his bare fingertips on Hux’s face and the scratchy wool of his fingerless gloves resting against the sides of Hux's neck. It made him feel helpless, swept up in the best possible way.

A sweep of Ben’s tongue along the roof of his mouth made Hux shudder, and all of a sudden he just had to wind both his hands into Ben’s hair to tip his head back, kiss him deeper, drinking in his soft moan. That, he remembered—the way Ben liked being manhandled, liked Hux putting him where he wanted him. It felt like a turning point, like warmth catching and flaring into heat, like the start of the kind of fire Hux’s ancient ancestors had burned in the dark of winter to ward off chill and death.

Ben’s hands slid down to grip his waist, pulling him down against him as he rolled his hips up. Hux could feel him, feel how hard he was already, the thick line of heat jutting up against his ass. He laughed giddily into their kiss even as his own hips jerked in response, arousal spiking through him at the feel of it—he’d almost forgotten that Ben was like this, so easy, so needy. So responsive to Hux’s touch. Hux liked that about him.

He pulled back from the kiss to watch Ben’s face as he rolled his hips, grinding down against him, against his excellent and oft-remembered cock. The feel of it it rubbing along the center seam of his jeans made his face flush and his mouth go dry with wanting—they'd only exchanged blowjobs before, but he remembered Ben's drunken, filthy talk about how well he'd fuck Hux, given the chance. Here and now, Ben rocked up to meet him, his eyes closed, his brows drawn together, his lip between his teeth—gorgeous. Hux had a sudden compulsion to kiss the mole beside his mouth, so he did, a quick peck before he slotted his mouth back over Ben’s and licked inside.

Time spun out into something unreal, and Hux didn’t know how long they spent making out like that, a perfect collaborative effort, control of the kiss slipping back and forth between them easily where they’d fought for it before. He only knew that it lasted until he couldn’t take it anymore, until he had to do something about this mass of wool that was preventing him from getting any real friction. He wanted skin on skin, needed it in fact, but it was too cold out here to do much in the way of undressing.

He pulled back, panting and frustrated.

“We need to,” he began, but Ben surged forward and took his mouth again with a grunt of protest at the interruption. A little while later, he managed to finish, “Go inside. We need to go inside.”

“Too far away,” Ben protested, his hot mouth finding Hux’s chilled neck, the wet warmth of it making him cry out softly.

Hux wanted to press his point, but he could barely think, too caught up how good it felt, in the scrape of Ben’s teeth against his stubbled neck. Ben _licked_ him, the weirdo, a long drag of tongue along the tendon in his neck that left stinging cold in its wake as the chill crept in over the wet skin, but it wasn’t so bad because it only made his mouth feel hotter where it settled, sucking, just under his ear.

“Here,” Ben said eventually, dragging Hux out of his pleasure-induced haze. “I have an idea. Stand up.”

Hux stood and Ben followed, kissing him again with a little noise of frustration like he hadn’t intended to just then but couldn’t help himself. His mouth too close to Hux’s to speak very effectively, Ben murmured, “Up against the wall.”

They stumbled backwards, still kissing and nearly tripping on the flagstones once or twice, until Hux’s back was to the high stone wall of the little garden. Then Ben’s hands were on the buttons of his coat, undoing them easily with his bare fingertips. He opened his own coat next, unbuckling the several straps that held the ridiculous thing together. Then his hands were inside Hux’s coat, sliding around to his back, and Hux’s hands were around Ben’s waist, and they were suddenly pressed together chest-to-hips, impossibly, amazingly warm.

Warm, and hard. This way they could press their hips together, and Hux’s head spun dizzily as Ben rutted against him, his hips working in a deliberate, shameless grind, the two of them lined up perfectly through layers of denim. Ben only stopped to fumble his gloves off since he didn’t need them anymore, hands warming between Hux’s coat and sweater. Hux followed suit, tossing them on the ground, in too much of a hurry to get his hands back on Ben to bother looking for his pocket just now.

He yelped at the lingering chill on Ben’s fingertips as they slid under his shirt, the sound dissolving into a moan as they gripped his hips, moving him against Ben just the way the other man wanted. Want and pleasure boiled through Hux’s body, and he thought that this might be enough, this pressure, this friction, the incredible softness and heat of Ben’s mouth on his. That they might come like this, pressing and grinding; rutting like animals until they spilled hot and sticky into their clothes.

But then Ben’s hands were on his belt, chill air invading the space between them as he pulled back to unfasten it, making him wince with discomfort.

“That’s not gonna work,” he protested, voice ragged “It’s too fucking cold. Just—“

Ben didn’t open his fly, though, once he had his belt undone, only popped the top button and then slid his hand inside, taking Hux’s cock in hand, his grip warm and firm and sure and so good; so, _so_ , good—

“Fuck, Ben,” Hux panted, tipping his head back against the cold wall, trying to breathe.

The angle was awkward and Ben could only give him short little strokes, jacking him quick and all wrist, but it was still enough to make him moan aloud, the sound splitting the silent, empty night.

“Shh, love. Quietly,” Ben murmured, covering Hux's mouth with his own to keep his noises in.

Once he had adjusted enough to be somewhat coherent, he copied Ben’s move, pressing his hand to Ben’s lower belly, whining against his mouth at the feel of the firm muscle there and the trail of hair under his palm as he slid his hand slowly into Ben’s pants and under the waistband of his boxers.

Hot, he was so hot here, the thick, wiry hair under Hux’s fingertips damp with sweat. He couldn’t resist the urge to tease them both, just a little, skirting around Ben’s cock to caress his balls with his fingertips, rubbing little circles, feeling the soft heaviness of them under his fingers. He couldn’t entirely reach, but Ben still seemed to like it, his mouth falling still and going slack over Hux’s, panting against him.

But he didn’t tease for long. He was already getting close, helpless in the face Ben’s huge hand engulfing his cock, the way his fingers closed over the head of it, squeezing just right, moving in quick little jerks that tugged the foreskin up and down the same exact way Hux did himself. God, he was too good—there was no way it was an accident. He remembered how Hux liked it. All the things they had to learn in this damn program, and Ben remembered that detail from nearly a year ago.

Needing to make him feel just as good, he took hold of Ben’s cock, groaning against his mouth as he wrapped his hand around the base of it. He was so very hard, swollen heavy and hot, almost too thick to fit comfortably in the circle of Hux's fingers. God, the way he felt—his skin was so soft and delicate, ridged with veins, and when he swept his hand up to the head he found it wet, sticky-slick and soaking, drooling into the cotton of his underwear so that the damp fabric clung to Hux's knuckles.

The angle was beyond awkward, though, and Hux could barely move his hand, Ben’s zipper digging uncomfortably into the thin skin of his wrist.

“Here,” Ben muttered, “Hold still, let me—“

He rocked his hips, thrusting into Hux’s grip, making him gasp, half from the sudden, sweet surge of arousal that shot through him, half in surprise at his own reaction. It shouldn’t be so hot, but it was; fuck, it really was—the thick slide of him through Hux’s fingers, slipping easy and smooth through his own slick. That, and the feel of Ben’s body as a whole, firm and strong and just plain big, rocking against him, fucking his hand like he was fucking _him_ instead.

“Hux,” Ben muttered, still jacking Hux so goddamn perfect it made him want to scream even as he rolled his hips harder, faster. “Hux, that’s… Oh, _fuck._ I want you. I want you so much, wanna fuck you, want you to fuck me, want you every time I see you, every day.”

Hux wanted to respond in kind because he agreed completely, but all he could do was gasp out, “Me too. Fuck, me too,” and bury his face in Ben’s neck, mouthing blindly at the skin there, holding onto the back of Ben’s head for dear life with his free hand.

“Gonna—“ Ben choked out, his voice gone tight and strained. “Gonna come—“

And he did, his body jerking silently as he pressed himself as close to Hux as he could get, his cock jumping under Hux’s hand as it pulsed out thick, sticky fluid that dribbled hotly down over the back of his hand, getting between his fingers, making a mess of the inside of Ben's boxers.

It was too much, and even though Ben’s hand had gone still, Hux came with a soft cry as he shoved himself into that tight grip, over and over, fucking himself through it. It was so good, so hot and wet and filthy, getting all over his cock, all over Ben’s hand. Hux shivered and moaned as he pictured it—he loved Ben’s hands, so strong and sure but so dextrous, rough with callouses from his art and just really fucking _big_. He knew how thoroughly his own hand was coated with Ben’s come, slick with it up to his wrist, and the thought of Ben’s hand that covered in his own— _fuck_.

 _“Fuck,”_ he panted, out loud, just for good measure. “God, Ben. Good idea.”

Ben only groaned, a long, low whining thing, and sagged against him, pressing him into the wall.

They stayed like that for a long moment, catching their breath, until Hux began to feel foolish, standing there with their hands in each other’s pants. He began to extricate himself and Ben followed his lead, making him gasp in sudden discomfort as a draft of cold air hit his skin when Ben pulled his hand free, wiping it on his jeans. Hux did the same, trying to minimize the cold for Ben, and—judging by his wince—only partly succeeding.

“This is gonna get real cold, real quick,” Ben said glumly, fastening his pants and doing up his coat. “It won’t be fun.”

“My car’s not far,” Hux offered. “Come back to mine? I think we’ll both fit in my shower, and the hot water never runs out.”

Ben grinned at him, bright enough to light up the whole night, even if they really were the last two men on earth.

“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, let’s do that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [camellia-cook.tumblr.com](https://camellia-cook.tumblr.com)


End file.
